


Solidity

by AstroGirl



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Introspection, Post-Coital, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 13:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl
Summary: She's so much more, now, than a voice on the other side of a door.





	Solidity

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Gen Prompt Bingo for the prompt "Formidable." (Although obviously the story itself isn't exactly gen.)

Afterward they lie cuddled together, his face so close against her that when he presses forward a little, he can feel the fur of her chest tickling inside his eye. Her body surrounds his, her arm draped across his ribs, her hand resting against his spine, her thighs snug against his pelvis. She envelops him so completely that he no longer feels naked.

She drifts off quickly – he can tell by the ridiculous, adorable little snores coming from just above his head – and he feels an amused stab of pride at the thought that he's managed to tire her out: this amazing, indomitable woman reduced to exhaustion by lazy little Sans.

His own tired magic and tired bones would him like to join her, but for once, he has no desire to sleep. He wants to stay here, like this, as long as he can. He doesn't want to lose this moment to sleep. Or lose this moment _in_ his sleep.

He runs his bony fingers along the silky slope of her hip and marvels again at the sheer _solidity_ of her. Not just that she's fleshier than him, as much matter as she is magic. That's amazing in itself, and he's pretty sure he's never going to get tired of touching that solidity, never going to feel like he's explored it thoroughly enough. It's that, after all that time when she was only a voice on the other side of a door, it keeps surprising him how three-dimensional she is.

Not just literally, either. Figuratively, too. It almost feels like a pun, that double meaning of her, in an abstract kind of way. He likes that. He likes it a lot.

Even if it scares him a little sometimes.

He likes to think that if he'd known who she was, it wouldn't have made any difference. He's an easygoing, irreverent guy. He gets along with everyone, and he isn't intimidated by royalty. Right? Hell, he's friends with King Fluffybuns (something that might have just gotten a little bit more awkward tonight, but he'll save that to think about some other time). He shouldn't have cared if she was the Queen. But he thinks he probably would have, because he kind of _does_ , even now. Even if it's just that tiny, excited voice in the back of his head that's flailing around, not quite knowing what to do with the fact that _holy cow, he just had sex with the Queen_.

Shut up, buddy, he tells it. That's not what this is about.

But this person he's with, this person whose breathing is currently rippling gently across the top of his skull, she _is_ the Queen. She's the Queen, and the Door Lady, and so many other things he's discovered since all the doors opened and everything changed. She's the voice he fell in love with. The woman who makes the astonishing puns, the woman whose words through the door so often carried the undercurrent of a sadness she couldn't talk about, in a way that, weirdly, made him feel a little less alone. She's the woman who mothers Frisk, and him, too, when he needs it. Someone tender and nurturing and willing to do anything for the people she loves. She's the formidable Boss Monster, the no-nonsense Queen, powerful and commanding. Intimidating when she wants to be. Fierce when wronged. Fiery. _Heh_. And he would never have guessed that about her, from behind the door. She's a fun bed partner, too, generous and loving, and not at all put off by the fumblings of an out-of-practice skeleton or a bad joke interjected into a passionate moment. She's the physical presence in this bed with him, so large and beautiful and _real_.

He's not used to anything feeling quite this real. He's not entirely sure he trusts it. But he wants to. He really, _really_ wants to.

He shifts gently in her embrace, rubbing his face against the soft reassurance of her fur. Maybe it's all right if he sleeps, after all. He might not trust reality but he does trust her, trusts all those amazing things she is. And she's got him. She's got his back and his front, and every other part of him. If he's okay anywhere, it's got to be here. If there's any moment that can't ever be taken from him, it's got to be this one. Who would dare try to take it from _her_?

Sans closes his eye sockets, and, safe in the arms of his future, slips peacefully into a dream.


End file.
